


Lord of Dysphoria

by Quill18



Series: Black Phoenix [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Trans, Angst, Bisexual Sirius Black, Body Horror, Cissexism, Dysfunctional Family, FTM Sirius Black, Gen, Misgendering, Nonbinary Sirius Black, Orion Black's A+ Parenting, POV Sirius Black, Past Child Abuse, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Sirius Black in Azkaban, Sirius Black-centric, Sirius is Lord Black, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Sirius Black, Transphobia, Walburga Black's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22264429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quill18/pseuds/Quill18
Summary: Sirius languishes in Azkaban. To make it worse, his sire, Orion Black appears in the gloom to drive the knife in even deeper.
Relationships: Orion Black & Sirius Black, background sirius/james/lily, past walburga/orion
Series: Black Phoenix [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583080
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63





	Lord of Dysphoria

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers/ alternate universe explanations in the end. Trigger warnings: transphobia, misgendering, body horror, possible internalized cissexism and misogyny. 
> 
> In my fics, the black flame is Family Magic, a blood-gift of the Black Family, it's inspired by the fic Reign of Power by Fayr Warning.
> 
> Un'betad.
> 
> Also, JK Rowling and her TERFY ways can go fuck itself.

The worst part of Azkaban, Sirius decides was the never ending replays of Walburga's shrill voice. The old hag was fond of calling him daughter, disappointment, shame of her loins, the whole sodding works.

Cloaked ice floats down the hall past him, its lipless mouth, a howling vaccum that vortexed out all desire to live.

"Not a girl, not a girl, not a fucking girl." Sirius rants and raves to himself, he huddles in the corner of his cell, under the wide-window that blew in salty freezing air. Long matted hair ( _like a woman_ whispered Walburga) hangs down to his shoulders, his wild stormy grey eyes and raspy voice leads to him resembling a half-feral banshee.

His long nails ( _fix your nails, my dear,_ whispered Walburga) scratches at the dirt on the stone floor, maps of Hogwart are burnt into his memory and he recreates them -

One. Scratch. At. A. Time. 

The dementors steal emotions, thought, imagery, they cannot steal cold hard facts. 

Hogwarts has stood for a thousand years, its evershifting stone floors, hard rigid timbers and the schematics he has helped mapped are all facts.

In his dreams, he wanders. His mind free, his body imprisoned. 

Thinking of Hogwards, dulls the hag. 

He scritches at his hairy legs. ( _Shave! How dare a woman of House Black look SO UNSLIGHTLY,_ screams Walburga.) The sharp pain dulls her voice.

He grits his teeth and bites his lip, slams his fist into the stone wall. Pain flares in his fist and shoots up his arm, he slides against the wall and flops into a pile of bones, rags and barely-dodged despair.

Pain keeps him awake, unwilling to fall into the limp glazed over depression of the other prisoners.

If...no, when, he escaped this literal hellhole, he was going to fucking shut down Azkaban.

No one deserves this shit, he thinks.

But first, survival.

Walburga Black nee Black, was not his Mother. 

Dorea Potter nee Black, his great-aunt, was more of a mother to him then Walburga.

Walburga was just the fucking incubator from hell.

The dementors passed his door, Sirius closes his eyes as the howls and gibberings of the prisoners echos to his cell door.

He shifts into Padfoot, it’s always easier to cope as a dog.

Dogs don't understand gender, what is man or woman, they're just dogs. 

He only wants companionship and a warm home as Padfoot.

\---

Night falls.

Sirius inhales and exhales while flopped on the floor, between dog and man.

He bares his teeth, yellowed canines flash in the dark. He feels his eyes shift, from the color vision of humans to the muted grey, blue-violet and muddy green vision of canines. 

His still mostly human ears prick, the other prisoners shift in the dark, their ragged robes rustle. 

Sirius growls as he hears them mutter among themselves, about how Black seemed to be less and less human with each passing night.

_"...Eyes glowing in the dark like a ruddy animal, what magic is this???"_

_"...Must be the accursed Black blood, Mother always told me those hoity-toity purebloods aren't as human as they claim to be...."_

He slams against the bars, he sticks his head out between the cold steel bars, hands clinging to the freezing metal. He snarls, sounding more canine then man. The other prisoners clam up and slink back into the darkness.

His grey eyes shift back and forth, he sees no guards, hears no footfalls, feels no chill from any dementors, though he knows they’ll be around deeper in the night.

A memory of Walburga's cold disapproving gaze flashes across his mind, her voice echos in his ears.

_"My daughter, the animal. Always a filthy eater. Look at you, you've grown up and look like one, no one views you as a person...:_

Sirius picks up his pillow of mouldy straw and flings it. It slides down the wall and flops into a dusty pile.

The dementors could steal away joy, contentment, happiness, but they couldn't whisk away his anger.

"FUCKING WALBURGA, SHUT UP YOU FUCKING BITCH."

He kicks the pillow aside. 

Sirius huffs, flops back down, curls in the corner.

If the dementors don’t kill him, the boredom will.

He snags his thin scratchy blanket, and wraps it around himself. He has to keep his magic strong and honed for when he’ll escape.

His eyes close, he breathes, and sinks deeper into himself - into the odd space between dog and man.

He crouches, perches on toes, fingers grip the stone cold floor and Sirius starts to pace on all fours.

His claws click in the darkness. 

He digs his nail-claws, into the palm pads, half-shifted into dog feet. Bristly hair covers limbs and hand-paws.

Anger sits and twists in his belly, his throat feels heavy and his mouth salivates at the thought of tearing Walburga's throat from her neck. His eyes light with a feral glow, his canines slowly lengthen. He feels his spine elongate and his tail brush against the clammy moist stone wall.

He curls up into himself, ears laid flat against his head. He kept his face mostly human for now.

Sirius laughes. "Walburga was right, I am turning into a fucking animal. Fuck her."

"First in the family to become an Animagus in generations..."

Another memory flashes. 

_"Mother, what is that?" Young Sirius was in the library, one of the girl days with Mother. His (never her, never, he refuses to remember himself as a her) hair was brushed out and tied back with a velvet bow. He sat in her lap, clad in a black dress, Mother held him and read him a book. Sirius pointed out to a dusty old tome sitting on the shelf._

_"Embracing Your Inner Animal by Charis Fowl."_

_"That? That my darling, is not important. Animagi are wizards and witches who choose, CHOOSE, to become lowly animals. Now my darling, Blacks don't turn into lowly animals for we are the pinnacle of perfection..." Walburga smiled, her eyes glittered like of a black widow before devouring her mate._

Sirius shakes his head. Ah, to be a child again, before he learned he was supposed to be one or the other.

It's not like he didn't want to be a girl....it's just that being male....fits better most of the time. Being female was like a very large blanket, ill-fitting but comfortable in the right moments when one was cold. But being male was more like a fine tailored shirt that fit nearly just right, but not quite. And itched at times.

_Young Sirius stood before his parents, his Sire- Orion and Walburga, the incubator from Hell. He's just turned ten. Only a cloak is wrapped around him._

_They both sit on their wingback chairs, backs straight, hands draped over the armrests, faces cold and still, grey eyes that threatened pain if he makes the wrong choice._

_If he chooses to walk over to Walburga, he'll be condemning himself to a life of being sculpted into Walburga's image. She'll want grandchildren, the thought of gestating something inside of him...is a distant repulsive thought but he knows that pureblood women are expected to produce heirs._

_Choosing Orion on the other hand...of being shaped by his Father, it's not ideal at least, but the terms of male and the associated pronouns with it is much more tolerable. Like a cup of tea that's a smidge too hot unlike the blazing hearthfire of femininity that threatens to engulf him if he gets too close._

_Young Sirius looks towards his father and gives a slight nod. Orion breaks his disdainful expression and smiles._

_He's about to walk towards his Sire and receive the patriarch's blessing... only for black flame to lick his feet, pain became his entire world and Sirius wakes up three days later under a healer's care. Brand new skin has been regrown._

_Sirius doesn't see Walburga for nearly two years._

He blinks away the tears. The memories always nip and snarl at his ankles, they don't leave him alone.

Curled into a ball, with his back to the bars, he hisses as his claws sink into the thick pads of his hand.

Blood so dark to be black, it drips down his palm, hot and steaming, vapor dancing in the cold chill. His hatred towards Walburga keeps him warm. Hatred of one's family, the most potent of them all.

Love of one's parents, the most primal emotion, twisted and bent and shattered by abuse and betrayal, turned into a neverending unceasing hatred. His ancestors found this out a long time ago, the dark arts were always more potent when fueled by love corrupted into hate.

He watches with heavy-lidded eyes, satisfied. The blood smolders and bursts into shadowy flame, and as Sirius curls around the flame, his tail tickled his nose.

He sleep, warm in the freezing cell of Azkaban.

He drifts in and out of consciousness, shipwrecked on the tides of sleep.

Sirius dreams of Walburga screaming as umbric flames ate her alive.

While he nurtures his spite, that neverending, unceasing focus, it still lures in the dementors.

They brush against the cell door, rag-cloaked chill that rattled, entities that never knew the warmth of life.

Feral dreams of matricide are chased away by the cloaked ice.

The flames go out and Sirius whimpers, howling in his sleep.

Dawn slowly breaks.

\---

"BLACK, CEASE YOUR HOWLING! LORD BLACK IS HERE TO SEE YOU!" The guard pounds on Sirius' cell wall.

Orion stares ahead, not bothering to correct the guard. Technically, Arcturus had passed the Lordship down to Sirius, not that his idiot child knew. But the guard didn't need to know that.

His own grey eyes glow silver in the dim light, the better to see his own errant son with. 

No, daughter. She was her mother's daughter.

No son of his would support the dark lord, a madman that murdered his youngest.

The guard blinks in amazement and opens his idiotic mouth.

"Bloody hell, your eyes glow like that murderer Black."

Orion gives him a baleful glare. How dare he be compared to the traitor.

"Ah my manners my Lord, forgive me."

The plebian gives a shoddy bow. Not deep enough for one of pure breeding such as him.

"Enough. Open the door." Orion snapped, he pointed his basilisk headed cane at the door.

"Ah yes, my Lord. If Black gives you trouble, we'll rough him up for you eh?"

Orion narrowed his eyes, but only for a flash. The guard had said "him". Everything in Orion scream to correct the nameless plebeian before him. That his son had been born a daughter and been found wanting of manhood, that his idiot offspring had lost the chance at it.

The guard smiles, taking Orion's silence as approval. His crooked teeth and gaps in his teeth, disgust Orion. A flutter of thankfulness at being of superior breeding filled him. Such was the plight of the commoner. Generations of Blacks and careful marriages begot only straight teeth, no gaps. Teeth that are white, gleaming, and sharp.

He chose his words carefully, keeping his voice flat and neutral, with an edge of bite to it.

"No. I'll discipline my own child."

The basilisk-headed cane hits floor, the dark ebony wood rang in his ears. 

Still, despite Sirius' transgressions, Orion refuses to besmirch the family name even more. Moon Children were a closely held secret of their clan and he dares not taint the knowledge by having a simpleton hearing about it. He doubts the ill-bred guard before him would understand.

\---

The cell bars clang as the guard pounds on the door.

Sirius jolts from sleep.

"BLACK, CEASE YOUR HOWLING! LORD BLACK IS HERE TO SEE YOU!"

Shit.

###  **_Shit._ **

##  **_Shit!_ **

The arrival of human guards is always a bad thing. It either heralded a new arrival and then listening to someone else being broken in by the dementors over weeks or months, or someone dragged screaming to be consumed.

He shudders. No way in hell he's calling it a Kiss. Kisses, real ones, he only remembers in bits and pieces, the ones the dementors haven't eaten anyway. Walburga kissing him on the forehead before a "corrective action", Orion hissing in his ear and kissing his temple that the coming pain ( _it was never physical_ ) was for his own good, the last goodnight kiss he had with James and Lily before he went off to visit Remus on Halloween Night...

Then again, the real Kisses have heralded pain, so calling the soul devouring a Kiss, wasn't really any different. The only difference was that one killed your soul by a thousand cuts and the other one murdered you in one go.

....Voices, a familiar one grew muffled beyond the stone. It was low associated with his memories of Walburga.

##  _no._

##  _No_. 

##  **NO.**

...it couldn’t be Walburga, anyone but fucking Walburga.

...wait, _Lord_ Black?

...Figures she would've stolen his grandfather's title.

The cell door clicks with the insertion of a key.

Sirius scrambles back, his tail melt away into his backside, half-formed paws became brittle twigs of fingers and toes, his ears become small and rounded, sound becomes duller, his vision becomes sharper, the world grew brighter: muddy greys became the crisp blue sunlight streaming through the barred window.

The door creaked open, for the first time in a long time, Sirius wore the face of humanity and humanity alone.

His teeth grit and the only sign of his inhumanity, is feeling his canines sharpen and lengthen.

He runs his tongue over them. 

He feels fire lick in his palms and he balls his hands into fists. The flame dies.

If the guards find out about his flame, its magic-inhibiting shackles for him. And there goes a one-way trip into madness.

The heavy footsteps are not the delicate ominous taps of Walburga's heels but the dragonhide- shod feet of his sire, Orion Black.

Hatred falls away to confusion and Sirius feels his canines dull. He looks at Orion, the mirror image of him, just older, with white streaking through his slicked back hair, cut short and trimmed in the strict standards of purebred males. If Sirius was hetrosexual and not a fucking bisexual poof, and sodding elderly and a proper man, he would look just like Orion.

Orion taps the walls with his snake-headed cane. He feels the rush of energy that envelop the room, the cutting out of sound - the howling of the ocean wind, the screaming of the gulls, the roar of the waves, the whimpering of prisoners - all gone.

The otherness of Azkaban turns even bleaker.

Sirius stands up, he feels his bony toes scuff the floor. Heat rushes to his toes. In case, Orion is here to break him out and needs to run for it.

"Da-?"

Orion holds up a finger and Sirius clams up.

Father's grey eyes rake over Sirius, inspecting him like a breeder with a prize specimen struck by misfortune. 

He tsks.

His cold gaze hold the same dispassionate look and shakes his head, inspecting him like a breeder that’s judged their prized specimen to be lacking, the sentence - being put down. 

So.

This isn't a rescue, but instead a...

condemnation.

Orion starts to circle Sirius, still inspecting him. Sirius holds his gaze, and turns, following Orion's disdainful gaze.

"The family resemblance is striking. To your dame, Walburga. To your cousin, Bellatrix. To my mother, Melania."

...Sodding hell. 

Grandfather, Father, Brother.

Arcturus, Orion, Regulus.

The three present during the blood ritual that blessed him with manhood, that he would grow into a man, instead of a woman.

Grandmother, Mother, Cousin.

The ritual usually called for a sibling but a cousin would do.

Melania, Walburga, Bellatrix.

Dread flared in his stomach, he grits his teeth, he has an inkling at what Orion views him as now.

Why? Bollocks for all he knew.

He feels heat growing in his palms. Sirius stands to his full height, 6' 5" compared to his father's 6' 2”. He smirks, being inbred was good for something after all.

Being taller then the pompous git that sired him.

"Just like your mother, using her height to intimidate." Orion chuckles, his voice is deep and scornful.

Sirius replys, his voice hoarse and raspy from disuse.

"Funny that, I've always recall-"

Orion's basilisk-headed cane points towards his throat. 

_Silencio._

Thick heavy pressure collars around his throat, and his voice gets cut-off.

Sirius claws at his throat, his eyes widen and his own eyes glow as he tries to throw off the spell. He tries to speak and no words come out, just hacking coughs.

Orion's eye flash silver, nearly white.

"I didn't come here to talk, **_girl._ **"

"You are dead to me, Sirius. " I won't take your name, but your birthright, your lordship is **gone."**

Sirius flips him off with both fingers, eyes narrowed.

"You even insult me like a muggle!" Orion sneers. 

Sirius burns with the need to bumrush him and curbstomp his pompous smug git-face against the stone floor but his own bare feet are stuck to the clammy stone.

Wordless spells were always Orion's favorite punishment.

Sirius cusses at him silently and mouths, "WHAT LORDSHIP?!"

Orion thumps his cane again and Sirius' lips burn and then melt into his flesh.

He has no mouth.

He cannot scream.

But he would never scream.

Because that would make him more like his mother, Walburga.

Sirius hyperventilates, he's down on his knees, his hands clutch at his lower face, his fingers run over his bare flesh, his stubble, the non-existent lips.

Orion laughs, deep and throaty, cruel and spiteful. Just like Walburga.

Sirius glares at him, the silver glow of his eyes die back to a dull grey, he’s trying to reverse the spells. The heavy bands of his father's magic wrap tightly around him and there's no letting go, if he fights long enough, he's going to suffocate.

Orion was the one who protected him from her. The quiet parent who merely gave approval with a mere nod or shown displeasure with a sneer. The one who gave more painless days then Walburga ever did. The sire who protected and healed him and his brother....

Sirius' fingers claw at the stone floor. 

He can't. CAN'T

HE CAN'T REVERSE THIS.

He tries to morph his face into Padfoot but his flesh is frozen. His nose doesn’t become wet, it doesn’t elongate into a snout.

He's stuck.

Trapped.

Orion watches, silently, hands resting on his basilisk-headed cane. His narrowed eyes are cold.

Sirius cannot summon the fire, the flame that warms him. His panic and hatred run deep. 

He breathes and breathes and breathes to nourish the flame but he CAN’T FUCKING

###  **FEED IT.**

His palms warm up, he feels his face heat up, but without the extra breath from his pre-existing lips,

The flame swirls and swirls in his stomach, eating him alive.

"Enough."

Orion taps his cane against the stone floor and Sirius feels a veil of calm fall over his aura, it sinks into his flesh.

The younger man's inhaled breaths become less ragged and become more steady.

Orion continues to speak as though nothing happened.

"Father Arcturus left the Lordship, the Family Head, Master of the Magic that binds our blood and name, to _you. "_

Orion spits out the last word.

"Punishment for my sins in raising you, in letting Walburga damage you, he said. The only quick way he could circumvent Walburga’s feminine magic that kicked you out of the family. 

Father Arcturus is convinced that Walburga’s so-called raising of you and Regulus has driven the both of you madness and recklessness and this was the last thing he could do right for you.” 

Too bad he died, before he realized how much of a treasonous wretch you are, my child.

But It’ll never be claimed by you as long as I breath, you’ll rot here, your bones littering this sad frozen hellhole.”

Orion shakes his head. He looks down on Sirius, as his youngest gets pushed down to the ground by his strong magic. 

“Voldemort has murdered my youngest, Regulus is dead, I've been cursed to impotency, you are a blood traitor turned twice, and Father Arcturus has become senile. All of Cygnus' born sons are daughters, so the family name ends with you, unless Narcissa or **worse,** Bellatrix decide otherwise.

....this was your entire plan wasn't it...Sirius?

Thought the rest of us was **sodding wankers** , in your own words so you engineered the fall of our House along with your so-called...friends..."

Sirius shakes his head and scrambles back. He can't shift, he can't call upon his flame, he's going to die here.

Dead like Regulus, his little brother dead. Can’t be.

"Don't lie to me, Sirius."

"I taught you that Blacks **never** betray Family. We raised you, clothed you, fed you, shaped you, I saved you from a fate of an arranged marriage like your mother and I. Her a broodmare, I - "

Orion cuts off. 

Sirius watches as Orion paces, he and Orion never break eye-contact.

“You turned your backs on us, left us for blood traitors on **both** sides, pureblood-murdering filth along with subhumans, your so-called new family." 

Orion's voice is low, full of bitterness.

Yeah fucking right.

Sirius snorts out his nose and closes his eyes.

This was it. He was going to die, considered a woman by his own Sire, remembered in the dustbins of history as a traitor.

Monologued to death by his own Father. What a shitty way to go.

Pathetic.

He opens his eyes, a defiant glint flashes in his gaze. 

So Orion was jealous, jealous of his eldest child's turning ( **her, never her, always his)** affections to the Marauders.

Sirius snorted. The green eyed-monster making a victim of Orion.

He remembers the flash of Harry's emerald eyes and went still.

He can't die here.

He needs to live for Harry, his child.

Orion keeps talking. Sirius stays still, better not to bring attention for him. 

Sirius made his way to his feet and the cane tapped again. A wild force of energy slams Sirius back into the wall.

Orion strides ahead, yanks Sirius' neck and c h o k e s.

Starved by Azkaban, Sirius claws at Orion's hands. He can't break free and the fingers tighten around his neck. 

S q u e e z e.

"I...killed Walburga.”

Sirius eyes' widen. Orion continued to rant, his eyes glinted unsettlingly.

Regulus dead, now the hell-incubator murdered by his Sire. The flying fuck?

Orion’s fingers loosen but his grip remains tight.

"Got sick of her shit, her schemes, her ruination of my children. And she succeeded, regardless.” 

Orion is silent, Sirius feels his Sire’s grey eyes bore into his. His sire laughs. 

“You know...she wanted to marry you off to the Dark Lord as tribute.” 

Horror creeps into Sirius’ veins.

“A gift from the Black Family.” To his shock, Orion rolls his eyes. “Good thing, I raised you as a man, you made the right choice, **daughter.** ” 

The wrong term stabs into Sirius, psychic pain of _wrongness._

Orion keeps going on, hands still clenched around Sirius’ throat. The sedative veil hangs even heavier.

“Even you don’t deserve that fate. You would’ve made a shite bride, no man would survive your fury and treacherous ways. Just like your fucking mother, **girl.** ”

Sirius feels his hands tremble, he yearns to melt Orion’s face, see the flesh drip like the animal fat candles back in Hogwarts…

Orion doesn’t shut up, and his limbs feel like lead. Fucking sedative aura. Fucking choking. Fucking everything. 

“Brush out and trim those matted nasty locks, get those claws trimmed, wipe that stubble away, and get dressed in my ex-wife’s clothing and you’ll be the spitting image of her.”

Hatred surges through Sirius’ body and he slams his head onto Orion's face, his Sire's nose cracks.

Sirius crumples to the ground.

Orion falls onto his arse, blood gushes out of his overbred nose.

The git, that fucking git that keeps calling him the wrong thing, looks disbelieving at the red stains on his prissy elegant fingers. 

Sirius feels Orion’s magic dissipate and he pants, feels his lips manifest back into existence. 

Purple bruises ring his neck, ghost shadows of his father’s fingers echo across his nerves, the phantom sensations of filicidal strangling linger in his memory. 

Sirius gets up, fangs bared, fire licking at his feet, embers bursting from his fingers.

Fire cloaks him in hellhound visage.

His own grey eyes shine ghost-silver.

Ancestral rage fuels him as he reaches for the gift of Grandfather Arcturus. 

Orion backs away, Sirius kicks the shitty cane out of his reach. 

Sirius roars, spitting inky flame while obsidian fire-crowned.

“SHUT UP. 

SHUT THE FUCK UP.

YOU SOUND JUST LIKE HER.

IM NOTHING LIKE HER, NOTHING LIKE THAT BITCH WALBURGA, NOTHING LIKE YOU.

I’M YOUR ELDER **FUCKING SON** AND AS YOUR LORD, I ORDER YOU TO 

**FUCK OFF.”**

He shoves the mental compulsion to obey at Orion, the same compulsion that Arcturus did to the entire family, the compulsion that bound Orion and Walburga together, the same-

It doesn’t fucking matter.

In the end, he’s a Black. 

And Orion is forced to obey. 

“AND KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT ABOUT THE FUCKING FLAME.”

Sirius yells out, throat raw. He cannot, willnot have the guards find out about the gift. 

Orion slinks back to the door, no longer the pureblooded git that strode in like he owned the place. The wanker’s hair is half-burnt off, his cloak has been torn, his robes dirtied by Azkaban’s leavings, he looks confused, led astray. Like an idiot who thought he could tickle a dragon and get away with it. 

Creeping ice comes and a blizzard-storm of dementors rush down the hallway. 

The flames smother out and Orion flees, his dragonhide-shod feet help his sorry arse scurry out down the hall. 

Sirius laughs and laughs.

The vortex-storm of misery lure outside his cell-door but they cannot put out the maelstrom of spite and hate that fuel him.

He is Lord and Master of the House of Black.

But that means jack-fucking shit.

His kingdom is a lonely dank cell in Azkaban.

His child whisked away to god knows where, his husband and wife dead. His bloodrite-brothers are traitors: one to Voldemort, and the other has abandoned him. _(For Dumbledore? No, it can’t be.)_

No fucking point to all this power, with no loved ones to share it with.

Sirius laughs, the dementors drive into his heart the above facts. 

Laughter twists into hysterical sobs as Sirius curls into a ball and weeps.

**Author's Note:**

> Sirius is transmasculine nonbinary in this timeline but has issues dealing with it because of Orion Black's cissexist parenting. Sirius here is also the second spouse of James Potter, with a blood ritual to make him Harry's third parent. Orion is also too much of an idiot to admit he was also a victim of Walburga being abusive, being into strict gender roles and shit. He hasn't been to Grimmauld Place, since he put down Walburga, so he hasn't seen the family tapestry and Sirius' new additions to it. 
> 
> The Family Magic with the Heads of the Family having compulsive magic that compels members to obey is a subversion of those Sirius as Lord Black fics where he can dissolve marriages with a snap. Any more fic in this universe will explore how horrifying compulsive magic is.


End file.
